Assassins and Lovers

"This year, as you all know, we have a number of new faculty members at Hogwarts," said Albus Dumbledore. "Therefore, to facilitate their assimilation into the social life at the school, we will all be participating in a game that is designed to help you get to know each other."

Severus Snape fidgeted with his robes. Social life, he thought. Right. That's what keeps me so busy all the time...

"This game is called Assassins. Each of you will be assigned a target. This is the person that you must kill. No, Severus, you are not allowed to actually kill your target."

Darn.

"By 'killing,' I mean that you will use a charm, potion, spell--any sort of magical device you choose--to render the person temporarily unconscious. Once the person is unconscious, you will write on his or her hand, 'Dead.' This will alert the game goblet--here, you see--" he pointed to a small silver cup with purple smoke rising from the top "--that this person has been eliminated from the game. You will then be assigned a new target. The last person standing wins a thousand Galleons and a week's vacation. Yes, Sirius?"

"May we team up?" Sirius Black, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, asked from the back of the room, slouching in the faculty lounge chair with his permanent hollow stare directed at the wall. He had surrounded himself by ten feet of empty space on each side, rather obviously isolating himself from the rest of the faculty. In light of his seeming lack of connection to the other professors, his question seemed rather ironic.

Albus smiled. "Certainly you may. But in the Hogwarts version of Assassins, I can offer no guarantees that you won't be assigned your partner as a target. And remember, anyone who enlists the help of a person who has already been eliminated will be charged with necromancy and placed on the Wanted List. Anyone on the Wanted List may be killed at any time by one of the Prefects, who will be serving as the police in this game. Now, because I will be participating in the game, Madam Pince will serve as the referee. In case there is any confusion within the game goblet about whether a person has actually died, Madam Pince will make the call. The game will begin tonight at midnight. You will be assigned your targets immediately after this meeting concludes."

"Is it absolutely necessary that we waste crucial class planning time participating in this silly game?" Snape complained. "I would like to request an exemption."

"Your request is denied," Dumbledore said brightly.

Minerva McGonagall smirked. Dumbledore caught her eye and the two shared conspiratorial grins. They would show the younger wizards how this game was played.

"I would also like to remind you that all assassinations must take place without witnesses. If any student witnesses an assassination of if you're spotted killing your target in front of one of the other professors, you will be placed on the Wanted List. However, if you encounter two professors conspiring together, and one of them if your target, feel free, of course, to kill them both. And needless to say, you may kill anyone who is actively attempting to kill you.

"But without further ado," Dumbledore continued, "let me introduce the new professors. First, a man many of you know already from reputation, Sirius Black, will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." Snape shook his head and let out a loud puff of air that sounded suspiciously like a snort as Sirius reluctantly stood up and quickly sat back down. "Rachel Lancaster, a graduate of the Salem Institute in the United States, will be in charge of our newly-created Fine Arts classes." A brown-haired young woman stood up and smiled shyly at her colleagues. "Hermione Granger, Arithmancy and Muggle Studies." Hermione beamed. McGonagall looked proudly at her former pet pupil.

Surely Dumbledore couldn't blame me for hexing that little brat, thought Snape.

"Fleur Delacour, whom many of you remember as the Beauxbatons champion in the Triwizard Tournament, has finally returned to Hogwarts and will be our Charms professor." The pale beauty glided out of her chair and bowed gracefully, her silver hair flowing mesmerizingly. "And finally, to replace Professor Binns, whose soul is finally at peace, we welcome back Bill Weasley as our History of Magic professor." Bill rose from his seat just behind Rachel Lancaster's and grinned. His look had softened considerably over the last few years; though he still wore his red hair in a long ponytail down his back, the fang earring had disappeared and his clothing, aside from a pair of clunky dragon-skin boots, was fairly conservative.

What a disgusting bunch of Gryffindors, Snape thought, watching Hermione hug Bill warmly. So frickin' affectionate.

"I expect all of you to treat each other with respect and consideration. To the new professors, welcome to the Hogwarts family."

Family. Funny, I never knew I was part of a family.

"To the returning professors," Dumbledore glanced at Severus, "Thank you for returning. None of your were under any obligation to return, of course." Right. As if I'll ever stop feeling obligation to that man. "We have a fine faculty. This will be a wonderful year." Frickin' optimist. "And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for--your targets! I've already placed each of your names into the goblet. I'll stand by the door as you leave and you can draw a name."

"What if I draw my own name? Do I get to commit suicide then?" Snape asked.

"Of course not," Albus laughed. "The goblet won't allow that. But you know that, Severus. How silly."

-----

"This is the stupidest game I've ever heard of in my life," Severus growled to no one in particular. He shoved his target paper into his pocket without looking at it.

Sirius stepped into the hall after him. "Come on, Sevvy, it'll be fun. Afraid of losing? Again?"

Snape's face twisted in disgust. "Shut up, Sirius. You may not be a murderer, but you're still a child."

Sirius looked at the floor. "I apologize, Severus," he said. "It isn't very considerate of me to bring up all those times I beat you at Quidditch."

Severus shook his head. "You'll never grow up."

Sirius pressed his lips together and was silent for a moment. "No, I'm afraid I have, Snape. And it doesn't feel good. At all," he said, then quickly exited down the hallway as the other professors left the faculty lounge.

-----

Rachel Lancaster was immensely pleased with her target. FLEUR DELACOUR, the paper said. She'd been wanting to kill the women for two years, ever since they'd worked together at Gringott's. It's not as if she ever actually did anything to you. She heard Fleur's rather musical voice a few feet behind her. Except steal him, and then break his heart. She could have slapped herself for having such malicious feelings towards her. She tried for a moment to like Fleur. Almost successful. Then she thought of that tear-streaked freckled face, and the way he still didn't turn to her for comfort. Not that I would expect him to, anyway. Why would he notice a plain woman in the art appraisal department, anyway?

"Rachel?"

She turned around, her heart pounding at the familiar gruff voice. "Hi, Bill."

"It's good to see you again. What have you been doing since you stopped working at Gringotts? I haven't seen you in what, two years?"

"A year and a half, I think. I've been working in New York. Interior design. The new Three Broomsticks in Manhattan, and that underground wizarding mall two miles below Times Square..."

"You designed that?"

"Well, part of it. I was working for Andromeda Designers. The firm did it."

"I'm impressed."

She could hardly bear to see his lopsided smile, especially the way his green eyes crinkled at the corners. Why couldn't they stop sparkling like that? "Thanks."

His smile faded slowly. "I think your classroom is next to mine. I suppose we'll be seeing more of each other," he said, squeezing her shoulder in a friendly way. "Good afternoon."

His boots pounded as he walked away.

-----

"Hermione, if I may call you zat?" Fleur questioned.

Hermione nodded.

"Are you looking forward to zis game?"

"I suppose so. I played a game like this at Cambridge once or twice."

"Ah, wis your experience, you should have an advantage."

"Oh, it was quite different. Completely unmagical. I didn't win," she added.

"Well, we shall see how zis game goes. I am very excited," Fleur confided.

It is true that I didn't win, Hermione thought. No need to tell her that I came in second. She looked at her target paper: Grubbly-Plank. The rather unattractive Care of Magical Creatures professor would be easy enough to take out...

-----

Dumbledore closed the door behind Professor Trelawney.

"Now Albus, tell me the truth," Minerva said, the two oldest professor hanging around the faculty lounge after everyone had left. "Do you know whose name everyone has?"

"Certainly not. I would never cheat," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"The goblet wouldn't allow it."

"No, it wouldn't. I tried."

Minerva grinned. "But we are going to win this game. At least, one of us."

"Now, I am a very old wizard, certainly past my prime. There would be no shame in being defeated by one of the young people, such as Mr. Weasley--he has Sinistra, by the way, I saw the name over his shoulder--or even Miss Delacour."

"No shame, of course, Albus. But you know we don't want that to happen," Minerva said.

"No, we certainly do not. Let's sit down and chat. Would you like some coffee, Minerva?"

McGonagall sat down in the nearest chair, leaning back in a relaxed posture that her students seldom saw. "You know I would," she said.

"The usual? Espresso, black?"

"Of course." She watched his back as he poured the coffee into a small mug. His spine was still straight and his arms, though thin, tight and muscular. He must be 160 by now, she thought. And I'm nearly 90. But you would never know it, she assured herself. I'm not even graying. Dumbledore put the cup on a saucer and brought it to Minerva, carefully placing it on the table before her, then sitting down in the opposite chair. Albus, Albus. So close, and yet, you always keep your distance...

"Now, Minerva, I've got a few ideas..." She resumed her strict posture, and the strategy planning commenced.

-----

At ten o'clock, Severus Snape opened his personal potions closet to retrieve a vial of his usual sleeping potion. He mixed it into a glass of pumpkin juice and sat in a stiff chair in front of his unlit fireplace to sip and attempt to relax. His back ached from hours of unexpressed tension. Dumbledore, you may be a brilliant man, but you're full of stupid ideas. This game is the most childish thing I've ever been forced to play in my life.

But then, he was slightly tempted by the chance to win a thousand Galleons. He could buy a lot of potions ingredients with that money... Or better yet, a nice little boat, then I could sail out of this place. But he knew he could never leave. Albus expected him to stay. He owed his life to Albus, a debt he wished every day that he could eliminate. The unspoken obligations of his lonely lifestyle pressed on his chest. He took a swallow of the potion-laced pumpkin juice.

If I have to play, I might as well see whom I have to kill. He almost laughed as he opened the paper. SYBIL TRELAWNEY. That old dingbat will be so focused on her nonexistent inner eye, she'll never see me coming... Not that he cared about winning, or anything... But if he had to play, he might as well...

He got up and stretched out on the cold bed without even putting covers over himself. The impeccably mixed potion knocked him out in only a few seconds.

-----

Two hours later, the clock in the Great Hall struck midnight. Aside from a few rebellious students wandering the corridors, the castle was quiet. Bedroom doors were locked and reinforced with protection spells throughout the castle, while a handful of scheming minds, still awake, mapped out battle plans. The game had begun.